<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>What Not to Wear by chibi_nightowl, zappedbysnow</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27028045">What Not to Wear</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibi_nightowl/pseuds/chibi_nightowl'>chibi_nightowl</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/zappedbysnow/pseuds/zappedbysnow'>zappedbysnow</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bruce Questions His Life Choices, Family Fluff, Humor, Jason Gives Bruce More Gray Hair, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:08:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,415</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27028045</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibi_nightowl/pseuds/chibi_nightowl, https://archiveofourown.org/users/zappedbysnow/pseuds/zappedbysnow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce just wants to have an updated family portrait. Is this too much to ask for?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tim Drake/Jason Todd</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>516</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>What Not to Wear</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I wrote this fic about a year ago and shared it with snowzapped. We had way too much fun looking at men's suits and commenting about trends that we old farts just don't get. Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Bruce should have known something like this would happen. All he wants is an up-to-date family portrait to hang in the living room, one that has all four of his boys and his only daughter in it. A formal portrait at that, even though he knows Alfred will also capture the moments of utter insanity before and after the seriousness ends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His boys love to push his buttons though and in the privacy of Wayne Manor, they have no fear of any repercussions because there is absolutely nothing he can do to stop them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Case in point, right here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tim, don’t you think your pants are too short?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His third son dutifully glances down at his bare ankles, then back up to him. “No, they look fine to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the style these days, Bruce,” Dick comments from the leather sofa. His pants fit just fine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wear this to work all the time,” Tim adds. The blue of the suit is just a couple of shades darker than his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is also a pale gray and lavender ensemble he wears all too often,” Damian states from beside Dick. “Also without socks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that what this is about?” Tim asks. “I can go grab some socks. I just didn’t think my feet would be showing in the picture.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They aren’t but that isn’t the point. “Since when did it become the style for young men of substance to wear clothes that don’t fit?” Bruce wants to understand this. It’s irksome, especially as he doesn’t remember going through a phase like this. Is it a phase? Or is Tim doing this to him on purpose, some late teenage rebellion he never got out of his system?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dick laughs loudly. “Come on, Bruce. Seriously? You haven’t gotten that old, have you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Father is not </span>
  <em>
    <span>old</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Richard!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before the argument can escalate, Jason enters the living room. There’s a swagger in his step and for a brief moment, Bruce appreciates the fine cut of his dark gray cashmere jacket and artfully disheveled hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he blinks. Twice. “Are those pants </span>
  <em>
    <span>leather?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason smirks. “Yeah. They were a bitch to get into, but it’s not like I don’t know how to squeeze my ass into something tight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce can already feel the headache brewing behind his eyes. “Jason, please take this seriously.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am taking this seriously,” his son replies. “Shoulda seen my first outfit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim quietly coughs and looks away, a clear sign that he’s enjoying this a little too much. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>liked</span>
  </em>
  <span> that one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll put it back on for you later, Timmers.” Jason’s wink has Bruce suppressing a scowl. The new relationship between his sons is one that he’s still trying to wrap his head around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jay, I would appreciate it if you changed clothes.” Bruce can’t quite manage the words to let him know just how much this portrait means to him. He never can, not when emotions are involved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason looks unimpressed, but acquiesces. “Whatever, old man. I’ll be right back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce is half afraid his son will just walk right out that door and not come back. “Tim, would you go with him to help change and put on some socks while you’re at it? And check on Cass. I thought she’d be down here first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even she takes a few minutes to put on makeup,” Tim replies and follows after Jason.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s quiet for a moment before Dick speaks up. “What’s bothering you, Bruce?” He rises from the sofa and places a hand on his shoulder. “You know we all had to clear our clothing with Alfred first. Even you did. He won’t let us wear anything inappropriate for something this important.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Bruce is quick to reassure him. If there’s anyone here who will understand what he’s unable to say, it’s Dick. “I just want this to go well. I have my entire family under one roof right now and no one is at each other’s throats.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yet,” Damian mutters, kicking out one leg impatiently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce zeros in on his youngest son’s socks and the Batman logos emblazoned on the fabric. “Are those…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dick has the grace to look sheepish. “I told him that would be fine. When he stands, no one will notice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s yet another button being pushed and Bruce’s headache grows. He’s saved from answering when Cassandra enters the room, very chic and polished in a sleek black dress that leaves one arm and shoulder bare. She rarely wears color, much like him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look lovely,” Bruce says, opening his arms to accept the hug his only daughter is already bearing down on him to give. She likes hugs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” she replies simply and moves on to Dick. “How long do I need to wear this? I hate heels.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dick laughs and even Damian snickers. Cass’s abhorrence of fancy footwear is well-known.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not more than thirty minutes if your brothers ever make it back down here.” Bruce shoots a glance toward the living room door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re probably fornicating,” Damian states with all the disgust of a preteen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I heard laughing,” Cass says as she releases Dick and sits down beside Damian. “I knocked and Tim said they would be just a few minutes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That doesn’t bode well and Bruce frowns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re not that bad.” Dick tries to salvage the situation. “It’s just the honeymoon phase of a new relationship. Even you know what that’s like, Bruce.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yes, he did but it doesn’t make it any easier knowing that two young men he considers his sons are sleeping together. They may not be blood-related, but they’re still </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> boys. No matter how old they get, they’ll always be his boys.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim takes that moment to re-enter the room, appearing almost completely composed save for a definite redness to his lips, and wearing light gray and blue argyle print socks that clash horrible with his saddle brown loafers. He catches Bruce’s eye and one of those little half-smiles of his appear. “They’re the only socks I have here right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce decides that he prefers him sockless, but before he can say so, Jason makes his appearance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Time feels as though it’s standing still.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A dull roar echoes in Bruce’s ears and it takes him a moment to remember he needs to breathe. Distantly, he hears Damian shouting in outrage, Cass laughing, and Dick making that choking sound he always does when he can’t decide if he wants to laugh or cry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason’s clothes, if they could even be called that, are almost completely sheer. There are panels of solid white around the collar and down the chest of the shirt, concealing the row of buttons. His gauzy shorts consist of large opaque panels that conceal the upper part of his thighs. They’re pockets. They have to be pockets. Unfortunately, they all but force the eye to the zipper that barely covers Jason’s...</span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>...from the world. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce rips his eyes away. “Fine, you win. I don’t even want to know where that came from.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason does a little spin and Bruce thanks everything holy that there are pockets on his ass because his son is most definitely not wearing anything beneath those shorts. “But it’s straight off the runway!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Berlin Fashion Week,” Tim adds helpfully. “And it’s considered a suit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why do his children do this to him? What did he do to make them this way? All he wants is a single picture. Just one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he can say anything, Alfred bustles into the room, camera in hand. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Master Jason!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he says, sounding completely scandalized. “That is not what I laid out for you to wear. I want you to go right back up those stairs and put on something decent.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason grins and puts his hands in his pockets. From the sofa, Damian groans and makes a disgusted noise while Cass giggles more. “I did have that on before, but Bruce made me change.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alfred’s gimlet eye lands on him before flickering back to Jason. “Our agreement allowed you to exchange one form of leather for another. It did not include gauzy curtains.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t blame me! I just did what I was told.” Jason shoots a cocky smirk toward Bruce before heading back out the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alfred huffs and quickly inspects each of them, frowning when he reaches Tim. “Master Tim, why are you wearing those socks? They clash horribly with those shoes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim glances at Bruce and replies unrepentantly, “Bruce told me to.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>
    
  </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Jason's 'suit' is legit and was shown in Berlin Fashion Week a few years ago.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>